One Man's Trash
by shrektoplasm
Summary: A man sets out on his journey to find his god, and transcend his pitiful human containment. The knowledge he seeks may destroy him. Will he be strong enough?


"How long has it been since I embarked on this journey?", the man thought to himself as he trudged through the swamp muck. His pack was heavy with the outfit he had prepared for the rituals ahead, and was weary after his morning worship. He has heard stories of deities living in the swamps within the giant tree stumps and wished to know their love. Humans were plain to him; their trifling concerns were insignificant. He wished for something more, something better.  
He had made a long trek south from the HUMAN city of Taburcula. After having heard of the lovely beasts of the southern swamps, he set off, hoping to find something that could sate his desires for wisdom.  
Tales of their might were impressive; scaring off whole platoons of peasants with but one mighty roar and flash of gnarled teeth, providing glimpses of fear itself. Balgruuf was not afraid of such things. They excited him like nothing else. He needed to see them, the stories were not enough  
He thirsted for more, for something real, something he could hold in his hands; something he could TRULY touch. This was his fate he knew the gods had laid out for him, and he embraced the hardships of the road for the ascension at the end.  
"One more day", he thought aloud, sitting on a moldy log to set up his meager dinner of cram and onions.  
"Just one more day of travel."  
As he partook in his feast of travels he couldn't help but get even more excited hearing of how the lovely beasts loved the food as well. It was unbearable; he couldn't sleep that night knowing success was so close at hand. He could almost taste it, as one would taste a tart lime.  
He was nearing the heart of the swamp at this point. He could smell the aroma from the stories.  
He was so close stopped to drink it all in as he undid he pack to proceed with the ritual  
Donning the sacred green garb of the lord, he embraced the plastery scent of the sacred mask. The massive gloves impeded his grasping. Throwing the blessed crocodile leather tarp over his shoulders, he began to walk once more. Its bulk was immense, and the clothing was cumbersome, but it was necessary in his quest.  
Pants marked of lined sacred runes rubbing against his leg, he saw something in a clearing of the swamp.  
He found what he had been looking for, a nest of one of the lovely beasts. It was only a matter of time.  
Closing the distance carefully and quietly, he approached the nest and peeked into openings in the walls. The stories of their contents were true; it contained crafts unlike any of that MAN produced: candles of all shapes procured of a mysterious, unearthly substance, clear jars filled with the vision of his enemies. It was all so magical.  
Noting the lacking of a nest ruler's presence, he decided to get a head start. Creeping in he found the throne upon which the ruler usually would sit, as well as where he produced heirs. Balgruuf walked over and smelled the leathery throne.  
A pungeant aroma assaulted his nostrils; it was the worst thing he had ever smelled in his entire life, and possibly the most atrocious smell in the universe. It was perfect. He had to start now. The owner could return at any second.  
He placed himself onto the receptacle of the throne. As he did so he felt a strange warmth growing inside him, a warmth that made him feel like a man. He began to work his equipment out of its containment and started to fondle it with reverence.  
The smell did not subside; wisps of ghastly rot and miasma surrounded him still, but it only furthered his concentration. The ritual was working; he soon would reach enlightenment. Not one to be distracted by the prospect of success near at hand, Balgruuf continued working faster and faster.  
Admist the stench and the heat of understanding, he was so close to knowing his god. A step before entering the heavens and becoming one with them he saw something move out the corner of his eye. As he looked, nothing was there.  
He must not be interrupted now; he was so close to knowing the lord. Surely, whatever he saw was a figment of the demons trying to prevent him from reaching enlightenment. He must remain firm. The show must go on.  
He was finally at the gates of heaven; he couldn't hold back anymore. He must know the truth. Balgruuf lunged forward, bursting through the gates viewing anything and everything all at once. As quickly as he learned everything it all faded away, and he was back in the throne.  
Such knowledge was powerful enough to render itself in the physical realm. A dew of the essence of life itself obscured the runes upon his trousers, and extended their words with the light-bending properties of the Citadel.  
It was among this transcendence of knowledge that he saw the figure once more in the window. This time it wasn't running away, and he got a good look at it. It was one of the beasts he heard of, staring at him; it was making indeterminate gestures with its arm. He could not see what the beast's hand was doing, for it was below the window.  
Fear gripped Balgruuf as he locked eyes with what he came to know as his lord; he steeled himself. He worshipped this ascended being, it was not here to hurt him. What would he learn this day? Truly, nothing other mere MEN knew of. It will be wonderful.  
Balgruuf's lips quivered, but as they did he noticed the lovely beast starting to up the speed of the gesturing. Balgruuf knew he had to do something otherwise he might go mad from trying to comprehend this creature. Steeling himself once more, Balgruuf managed to speak but three words to the creature.  
"Who are you?"  
The beast looked at him a moment then its mouth began to shape words.  
"What are YOU doing in MY swamp?"  
The fiend lumbered from view of the window, and the door into the nest creaked as he stepped inside, locking the door behind himself. The beast spoke once more.  
"Ye look like me, but you're not me."  
Momentarily stunned, Balgruuf recalled that he was donning the sacred garments of the lord. His attempt to replicate his lord's appearance seemed successful for the time being.  
Now more concerned about what the lord might do if he didn't explain himself, Balgruuf spoke up.  
"I came here seeking true knowledge, knowledge unlike what could be gained from my HUMAN counterparts."  
Worried that the gods may smite him for his insolence, he spoke again.  
"I heard of the lord's greatness and sought you out to learn enlightenment from a great one such as yourself."  
"Aye, lad. I understand yer quest."  
The lord leaned in closer as he closed the distance. "But knowledge always comes at a cost."  
Balgruuf felt a bead of sweat forming upon his forehead. He was glad the sacred mask did not allow the lord to see his fear. Little did he know, the lord could smell it.

"Ahhhh," sighed the lord. "I always have enjoyed the smell of respect and you REEK of it. I will help you in your pursuit of 'knowledge', but you must be ready to not question my authority and my demands. They are requirements of the gods for obtaining such wisdom. Do you still wish to seek this enlightenment?"  
Balgruuf began to tremble slightly. He was not sure what such an ascended being could want from a pitiful HUMAN as himself.  
"Anything," Balgruuf said with hesitation, "anything my lord."

"That's what I wanted to hear, lad," the lord spoke. "Then we must prepare your tribute, and quickly. The gods are impatient."  
After saying this the lord went over off to one side of the nest, rummaging through various chests and lockers before finally returning with a vase of clear liquid.  
"This helps the tribute go through much more quickly, and with less pain," said the magnificent swamp king.  
"Kneel," the lord demanded. Unwilling to displease his god, Balgruuf did so immediately. With the sound of a burlap sack falling to the floor, Balgruuf found himself confronted with the Font of Eternal Knowledge on display before his very eyes. It was mere inches from his lips. If only he could sneak a taste.  
"Let your lord see your face." Balgruuf removed the sanctified mask hastily, lest the lord be angered. "We begin," said the lord, and before Balgruuf could respond, a blindfold was placed upon his eyes, and he felt a mighty hand grasp the back of his head.  
Balgruuf's head was tilted back.  
"Why must you move my head, my lord?" Balgruuf inquired.  
"Quiet! Don't question your lord and master!", the lord snapped.  
Just then, Balgruuf felt the Font upon his lips.  
"Now, drink deep of the Font. Acquaint it with your being," spoke the Lord. Balgruuf then proceeded to move his mouth about the font, becoming familiar with each nook, cranny, and hardened crack.  
"I can sense the Font responding to me. It's become almost warm and friendly," Balgruuf spoke. "Good. You are doing well," the lord said quietly.  
Fearing much more conversation would upset the impatient god, Balgruuf set to work again immediately without further interruptions to the ritual. He felt the font amassing, surging, as if it were procuring the deepest, darkest, thickest scraps of knowledge the universe had to offer to a mortal. The lord said nothing. He merely made clear his enjoyment of being worshipped.  
As he continued he could feel the font starting to shudder. Balgruuf paused a moment, removing himself from the Font.  
"What is happening to the Font, my lord?"  
"THE FONT IS ALMOST PREPARED, MORTAL!" shouted the lord, slamming Balgruuf back onto the font.  
Now somewhat fearful of his true god, he went back to work on the Font, but THIS time his work didn't last long.

It was as if the mysteries of life and death were undone before Balgruuf's eyes, and the Font delivered vast quantities of quicksilver ichor upon him. As liquid fire, the ichor stung as it melded with his form, seeping into his flesh and becoming one with his existence. The euphoria of his master was palpable, as the Font receded from his presence, coinciding with the lord's labored breathing. It must be difficult to bridge the astral thought planes with a meager being such as a HUMAN.  
"May I remove the blinder and once more lay my unworthy eyes upon you?" Balgruuf spoke.  
"Not yet little one, you must not see me during this ritual, lest your mind be lost to the madness of the knowledge you seek," responded the lord. The lord took Balgruuf by the shoulders and moved him to another location, seemingly adorned with a sacred rug. The fibers were loose, and comforting to Balgruuf's touch. He knew he was safe in the dormitory of god himself.  
"Take your place over the essence infuser."  
Balgruuf heard his lord moving in front of him.  
"Step wide now" said the lord.  
Blagruuf felt a presence underdneath him after his master told him to halt.  
"Now, I wish you to set yourself upon the essence infuser."  
"Very well my lord," said Balgruuf, complying with his lord's wishes.  
Immediately, arcing intensity flew through Balgruuf's body, sending him into a tither. It was almost too much for a mortal to bear, but Balgruuf's faith was strong enough to withstand the divine maelstrom. He would ascend beyond that of any MAN's knowledge should he complete the rituals before him. He will not fail. His whole life has lead to this day.  
Feeling the holy energy and sacred knowledge combining within him, it was both heaven and hell at the same time. Learning so much, but being torn apart by the very knowledge he loved. As he felt a pool of wisdom begin welling up inside himself, he also felt all of his old ways and ignorance fall away and outwards, as if they were being evacuated from a city. All of the dark, vile, and smelly ways he once held dear were washed away before the essence infuser. It was perfection at hand.  
The strain on his master was audible; it sounded as if he were in pain, but Balgruuf knew this being was beyond such sensations. His breathing quickened, his body becoming tense, Balgruuf continued focusing upon the essence infuser's form below. The divinity was exquisite; the euphoria extreme. As such was the agony. Balgruuf did not mind, his concentration did not falter.  
As Balgruuf was reaching his body's limit, feeling as though he would be torn asunder, he heard his lord and master call out to him with urgency.  
"THE TIME HAS COME MY CHILD, NOW LEARN MY WAYS!"  
At that moment Balgruuf felt a great, powerful, and torrential concussion of wisdom enter his form, feeling as though he was unable to move. He was exhausted, though the purity of thought flowing through him was astounding. Immaculate, powerful, and blessed was he. Balgruuf felt his quest complete. Balgruuf, however, had one last wish. "My lord?" asked Balgruuf, strained.  
"Yes, my beloved?" replied the lord.  
"May I remove my blind?" Balgruuf was nervous.  
"As you wish," replied the lord.  
Removing his blind, Balgruuf was greeted with the sight of absolute omniscience. The physical manifestations of his former ignorance and the mysteries of existence laid before him upon the floor and upon the corporeal vision of god. The smell was intoxicating, something like the waves of the ocean, the depths of the earth, and the void of nothingness compressed into one palpable scent.  
"I have but one wish left," said Balgruuf, "then my quest, as well as my life, will be complete."  
"And what might that be my youngling?" spake the Ogrelord.  
"I wish to know your name, not what mere MEN call you, but your TRUE name." Balgruuf was eager.  
"To learn my name, is to be consumed by the eternal knowledge that lies within me," warned the Ogrelord.  
"That is a worthwhile price for the last thing I seek in this existence," asserted Balgruuf.  
"Very well then, my child. You have earned this request."  
Balgruuf then steadied himself for the one, final thought.  
"My name," the Ogrelord spoke quietly , "is Shrek."  
At that moment, Balgruuf started going limp. His body, no longer able to hold fast, gave way under the weight of such knowledge. As the light faded from his eyes, and his form, the name resounded in his ears, as though the secret words of a lover. Balgruuf passed on into the aethereal thought planes, knowing his life was complete.  
He met victory this day.

The End. 


End file.
